


Little Shop Of Horrors

by cumberbabeswillrise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, this is gonna be a heart breaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberbabeswillrise/pseuds/cumberbabeswillrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day Cas looked across the street to wave at the boy with the square jaw. The boy with the square jaw has almost as many problems as Cas. When they finally meet, things turn upside down for both of them. Can they make it out alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every day it was the same routine.

 

6:00 a.m.: Daily run

7:00 a.m.: Shower

8:15 a.m.: Open shop

 

Every day at 8:15 Castiel would unlock the front door to _Gabriel's Flowers,_ and look across the road to _Singer's Motors_ and wave to the boy with the square jaw.

His brother Gabriel owned the shop and had ever since Cas could remember. Gabe had raised Cas when their parents died, along with his twin sister Anna. Every day Cas was greeted with the smell of roses and tulips. Grass and dirt welcomed his senses every morning, waking Cas up and preparing him for the day. Every day he unlocked the shop and stepped inside the door, pausing to wave across the street. Every day at 8:15 since he was a little kid, he stared across the road at the boy with the square jaw.

Soon, the boy with the square jaw became the young man with the square jaw. He and Cas went to different schools, Cas going to an online school, while the young man with the square jaw was home schooled. He hung out during the day, smoking cigarettes and doing wheelies on his motorcycle. Cas thought that he was a tool, but there had always been something so damn attractive about a bad boy.

The norm for the young man with the square jaw was leather jackets, jeans, and black combat boots. He liked to spike his hair up and wink at passersby, flicking the ashy end of his cigarette into the street.

The young man with the square jaw had a little brother with long hair. The little brother with long hair went to school every day, always carrying books and pencils. He often sat on the road and drew pictures of the street and the people who shopped there. He tacked up the pictures in the windows of the motor shop, and the young man with the square jaw helped.

The young man with the square jaw had a dad who liked to drink. He'd stumble through the street during the dark of night, and the young man with the square jaw would come out in his pajama pants and help him inside, not complaining once. Mr. Singer would come out, too, cursing and spitting as he helped the man who liked to drink across the threshold of the apartment above the motor shop.

Cas lived in an apartment above the flower shop, and he could often hear the young man and his dad fighting from the window. Cas was the awkward boy with the hair that stuck up in the back. Cas would lay in bed at night and hear the ramblings of a drunk, and then the calm argument of a young man who is just doing the best he can.

Gabriel moved into the city, so it was just Cas and Anna living in the apartment above the flower shop. They were quiet neighbors, they rarely spoke to anyone else unless spoken to, and took turns running the store. Anna was sick a lot, so Cas ran it more often than not.

One day, Cas went away to college, and he often stared out the window of his dorm room, longing to see the young man with the square jaw. When he came back to visit, the two resumed their routine as if nothing happened.

8:15 a.m.: Wave at the boy with the square jaw who lives across the street.

When he went back to school, it was morbidly depressing to look out the window and see a wall staring back at him.

8:15 a.m: Stare at a wall and picture the boy with the square jaw.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

When Cas graduated college with a masters in teaching, the boy with the square jaw had become a man.

Anna was sick, sicker than she'd let on while Cas was at school. Her red hair was no longer bright and shiny, her pale skin was waxy instead of cold marble.

One day, Cas held her hand and whispered to her as she drifted off into never-ending unconsciousness. When he emerged from her room at 8:15 a.m., the awkward boy with the hair that stuck up in the back had become a man.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Cas had attended three funerals in his life; his mother's, father's, and his brother Balthazar's. Now, he attended his fourth.

Cas was the only one left at the grave site. He had thrown dirt on the casket, then a lily, Anna's favorite flower. He was sitting on his knees, staring at the box that contained his twin sister. He had three other brothers, but Anna had been his only sister. She was half of him, and now she was gone. He hadn't even known that it was going to happen. Cas had come home and she was alone, sick as a dog, and no one had come to her aid.

Cas had no more tears. He'd cried already. He'd put his fist through a wall and wrecked his room. He had no more feelings to put forth. There was nothing left of him. He felt so hollow, he ached. Cas' vision went blurry, his chest pulsed with continuous pain. Cas couldn't breathe.

“Hey, hey.” Two hands rested on either side of Cas' head. He tried to blink through the blurriness, but it was difficult. “You're gonna be okay, kid. I promise. Hey, look at me,” a deep voice grumbled. It reverberated in Cas' chest and spine, making him comfortably warm.

“She's dead. No one even helped her...” Cas groaned, “I should have been there.”

Finally, his vision cleared a bit. The boy with the square jaw stared at him. Cas had expected the chiseled facial features, and the stubble, but the eyes. The eyes. They pierced him, and Cas could have sworn he was looking into the most beautiful field in the world.

“You were at school, Cas. It's not your fault.” His hands felt warm on Cas' head. “I sat with her a lot. I got to know her, and she didn't blame you one bit. She's the one who wouldn't let me call you to tell you.”

“You..?” Cas sank back onto his rear. His breathing was slowing down. “You knew her?”

The boy looked bashful. “I went in one day to ask where you'd been. I was wondering where my neighbor went. I found her on the floor of the shop, so I called 9-1-1, and I sat with her. I took her home. She didn't want to disrupt your studies. She wanted to make sure you did okay once she was gone.”

“Shit,” Cas groaned. “Wait. You called me Cas. You know my name? Did you always know?”

The boy smiled, “No. Not until Anna told me. I'm Dean, by the way.”

“Dean...” Cas smiled back, “Did you get along?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled slightly, “She was really funny. I think my little brother Sammy had a crush on her. He came over a few times to help me out. I'm so sorry she's gone.” Dean's expression faltered a bit. His eyes caught Cas' one more time, then he moved his hands and pulled Cas to his feet. “You okay?”

“No,” Cas sighed, hoping he would be able to keep his balance. “but I will be one day.”

“Let me get you something to eat, man. Come on, I know a place.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean drove a nice Impala, which he was obviously very attached to. His brother Sam sat in the back and silently stared out the window, blatantly ignoring Dean and Cas. Cas liked the car, it was comfortable and smelled like gasoline and dirt, Cas' two favorite scents.

Cas breathed deeply, letting it sink into his nostrils, praying it would rest there and that he'd never have to smell another thing ever again. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the seat. A hand rested on top of his.

“You okay?” Dean asked, removing his hand and keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

“Yeah. The car-” Cas began.

“What about it?” Dean's voice had an edge to it. Very attached to the Impala, indeed.

“It smells wonderful.” Cas finished, smiling at Dean, then turning his head to look out the window.

The wind pushed against Cas' suit jacket. The cool rush kissed his skin, leaving goosebumps. The sun was warm on Cas' face, his skin gladly welcomed the rays. Had it been any other day besides Anna's funeral, Cas would be in his garden, coddling his petunias. There were some weeds he needed to get out.

“You like pie?” Dean asked, a wide smile on his face. Sam scoffed in the back seat. Cas turned around, looking from Sam to Dean.

“Is this some sort of test?” Cas' eyebrows stitched together and he put his hands uncomfortably in his lap.

“No. No,” Sam laughed, “It's just that if you don't love it Dean might kill you and leave your body in a ditch.”

Cas looked to Dean, who nodded enthusiastically. “I... love pie,” Cas smiled awkwardly at Dean, who smiled back.

“Good,” He sped up the car a little more. “Pie time!”

 

“So,” Sam grinned at Cas while wiping his mouth, “you like the pie?”

“Can I tell you something?” Sam nodded. “I hate pie. I'm more of a hamburger guy.”

“I don't blame you. Dean's always had this weird obsession with it. Our mom used to cook fresh pies all the time, so I think it's how he remembers her. I don't really have any memories of her, she died when I was really young.” Sam looked into his lap, then at his pie again. He took a bite, grimaced, then took another.

“I don't remember my mom, either. My parents died when I was five. My brothers raised me.” Cas took a bite of pie himself. “I get it.”

Sam nodded at Cas. Sam didn't talk much, but when he did it was a lot, if that makes any sense. He spoke mountains in his short sentences. His hazel eyes held more wisdom than any kid Cas had seen. At age nineteen, Sam was more mature than most men Cas' age.

“Pie? Any good?” Dean asked as he slipped into the booth next to Sam.

“Yeah. I liked it,” Cas lied blatantly. Cas had never liked pie, but this pie wasn't that good.

“Eh, I've had better.” Dean smacked his hands on the table a few times. “Wish I could've given you better.”

“You and me both.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Since Anna had died, Cas had trouble doing everything. He couldn't sleep, and he rarely ate. At night, Cas stared out his window to see Dean, more often than not, sitting in his own window, head in hands. Cas would watch the boy with the square jaw pace and clench his hands over and over again. He shook his head, smacked walls, and kicked things.

When he was being too loud, Mr. Singer would come in, carrying a bottle of gin and some glasses. He and Dean would sit and talk for awhile, and Dean would smack the wall a few more times, but Bobby always got him to go to sleep.

That's how Cas spent his nights. He yearned to help Dean feel better, to be there to coax him to sleep. He just never wanted to intrude. Instead, Cas sat, ever awake, watching the boy with the square jaw deal with his demons.

Cas stared at his razor a lot. He'd kept it from his teenage years, when Balthazar had died and Cas was in an unbelievably dark place. The cool metal called his name and often reduced Cas to tears in the dark hours of the night.

The scars on his arms burned, and Cas cried out when they did. One night, Cas could not contain his sorrows anymore. He yelled and smashed anything in his sight, until someone grabbed him tight.

“Hey. Hey,” Dean's voice whispered in his ear, “you're okay. It's okay.”

“It's not. It's not okay.” Cas hyperventilated. His lungs burned. “She's fucking... dead. Dead! Dead, and I didn't even do anything about it!”

“You couldn't have been there, Cas!” Dean moved in front of him, his large green eyes blocking Cas' vision from everything else. “She didn't want you there. She didn't want you to see her die. I tried to call you, Cas, I really did. She wouldn't let me, and who was I to do it behind her back? She's better now, in a better place. Anna wouldn't want you to do this to yourself, Cas.”

“I deserve it. I deserve to bleed,” he spat through his teeth. “I wasn't good enough for her, I never was.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

It was the little things in life that Cas loved most. He loved the smell of fresh roses in the morning, mingled with coffee grounds and sweet cinnamon spice. It was the kind of scent that mingled sweetly and darkly in your nose. It infiltrated his nostrils and imprinted itself into Cas' brain, and could easily lull him to sleep.

Cas often appreciated the sight of the sun glinting of orange and pink tulips as it sets. The reddish hues of the sky blended perfectly and brought out the deeper colors of the flowers he loved so much.

Cas leaned over some roses in the front of his shop. He cut them precisely, shedding the thorns, since he'd done it his entire life. Flowers were his life, and Cas didn't care, even if it was the gayest thing to say. Suddenly, he smelled gasoline and dirt. He looked up to find Dean Winchester smiling at him, covered in grease.

“Hiya,” Dean winked.

 _Damn._ Cas' breath caught in his throat. That shirt was just a little too tight. In other words, not too tight at _all._

“Hey,” Cas took an awkward step back. Dean was very close. Cas could feel the heat radiating off him.

“To make up for the shit piece of pie a few weeks back, I have something for you,” he grinned. A calm one, with no teeth, all cheek. From behind his back, he produced a circular pan with a grey covering. “It's apple. My favorite.”

Cas couldn't even smell the pie over Dean's musk. He politely smiled, “Thanks. I'm sure it's great.” _Damn. He could cook, too. Cooking ability and unyielding sex appeal? Dean Winchester had it all._

“I make the best pie in the county. My mother taught me.” Another smile.

Cas laughed lightly, “Did your mother teach you to play in the mud, too?”

Dean looked down at his disgruntled apparel, then awkwardly put his hands behind his back. “Well, she died when I was real young, so I don't remember _everything._ ”

“I was kidding, you look fine.” Cas took the pie from Dean's hands and set it on the counter. He heard the quiet mutter of, _I know I do_ , come from Dean. “So,”

“So?” Dean's eyes widened.

“The bad boy of the block in addition to: smoking, riding an obnoxious motorcycle up and down the streets at three in the morning,” smile. “wears leather jackets and spikes his hair, bakes pies?”

“And I'm not ashamed,” Dean blinked into another smile. “Gotta let people know I'm gay somehow.”

Cas laughed, “Wow. Blunt, too.”

“It's part of my charm.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Cas. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Should I be nervous?” Cas sat down in a stool next the counter. He laced his fingers together and placed his head upon them.

“More like, excited.” Dean sat across from him, mimicking Cas.

“Ah, I see.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “Do you?”

“I have to try the pie?” Cas made a face of feigned excitement, which was obvious.

“No! Well, yes. You do. But, I wanted to ask you...” Dean pursed his lips, looking around the shop awkwardly. “out.”

“Out?”

“Out.”

Cas nodded, “Okay, out. Where would we go when we go... out?”

“Well, you don't have to eat the pie. But,” Dean smiled lightly, “you have to go with me to dinner.”

“Okay,” Cas rubbed his hands together, nodding as he did so. “Where to?”

“The best place in town.” Dean looked down at his lap, then back at Cas. His cheeks were slightly red. “My kitchen.”

Cas grinned, warmth spreading all around his body. Dean smiled back at him, and that was all Cas needed. Dean was going to get him out of this slump, Cas could feel it.

 


End file.
